


The Babysitting Brothers

by theSapphireSky



Series: The Detective and the Pathologist [13]
Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: F/M, they're two overgrown toddlers, this is what happens when you let Sherlock and Mycroft babysit
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-20
Updated: 2016-01-20
Packaged: 2018-05-15 02:49:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 874
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5768503
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theSapphireSky/pseuds/theSapphireSky
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The consequences of leaving a child in the care of a Consulting Detective and the British Government.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Babysitting Brothers

**Author's Note:**

> Couldn’t come up with a better title for this cracky little fic about what happens when Sherlock and Mycroft are left to babysit. Ah, well. It’s late and I’m in a giggly sort-of mood. :) Enjoy!

‘This is all your fault.’

‘Is _not_.’

‘Is so!’

Molly clenched her hands around the wheel and barely managed to refrain from shouting as she bit out, ‘Will the both of you kindly _shut it?_!’

Beside her, Sherlock crossed his arms and slumped down, his knees propped against the dashboard. In the backseat, Mycroft humphed and looked petulantly out the window.

Rubbing her temple, Molly focused on the seemingly endless road before them. Only fifteen minutes to go. Already it had been two hours with the bickering brothers and she was about at the end of her rope.

‘But it _is_ Mycroft’s fault,’ Sherlock muttered.

‘Sherlock Holmes, so help me God, _I will pull this car over!_ ’ Molly bellowed.

Mycroft snickered in the back seat. Molly caught his gaze in the rear view mirror and he immediately sobered at the fire in her glare.

‘One afternoon, not even five hours…’ she grumbled to herself, taking a right onto a dirt road. ‘ _We can handle it, Molly. Don’t worry, Molly. We’re brilliant, capable men, Molly. It’ll be easy_!’

‘At no point did I say any of those things,’ Sherlock interjected defensively.

Molly glanced over at him. ‘Not those words exactly, but that was your basic point.’

‘For what it’s worth, Molly, _I_ am sorry.’ Mycroft leaned forward, his tone soft even as he flicked his eyes accusingly at his brother.

Sherlock turned in his seat and stuck his tongue out at Mycroft.

‘Thank you, Mycroft.’ Though her tone was still cold, her eyes had softened when she glanced at him in the mirror. Mycroft smirked triumphantly at Sherlock, who flopped petulantly forward.

‘It’s obvious that I am sorry,’ he grumbled, picking imaginary lint from his coat.

Molly rolled her eyes. ‘It wouldn’t hurt to say the words.’

His nose wrinkled in distaste, but he dutifully said, ‘I apologize.’

‘How sincere, brother mine,’ Mycroft deadpanned.

‘Enough,’ Molly sighed, her fingers drumming anxiously on the wheel. She turned the car into the drive and pulled to a sharp stop. At the end of the short drive was a cottage, flowers dotting the windowsills and ivy climbing the stone walls. The front door opened and an elderly woman stepped out, her hands on her hips and a scowl on her face.

Molly hastily unbuckled her seatbelt and jumped from the car. Sherlock and Mycroft both tried desperately to disappear into the leather car seats, but the burning stare quickly rendered them obedient and they hesitantly stepped out of the car.

Molly raced up the small hill. ‘Is she here, is she okay?!’

Violet Holmes smiled reassuringly. ‘She’s watching crap telly with Timothy. They’re a mite bit tired, having made their way through half a chocolate cake this afternoon.’

Breathing a shaky sigh of relief, Molly slipped around her mother-in-law and disappeared into the cottage.

Violet smiled fondly after her, before turning toward her sons who were both cowering as they walked up the incline.

‘William.’

Sherlock grimaced.

‘Nicholas.’

Mycroft cringed.

The cold use of their given names could only mean impending doom. They braced themselves for a generous helping of Violet Holmes’ legendary dressing down.

‘Papa!’

Fear of his mother gone, Sherlock rushed forward and opened his arms in time to catch his daughter as she barrelled out of the cottage at top speed, Molly following along at a more sedate pace. Georgina laughed as he spun her around a couple times. When he set her down, he grasped her shoulders gently, but firmly, and gave her his Most Serious Frown.

‘Georgina Holmes, do you realize how scared you have made your mother and I?’

‘Ahem.’

Sherlock glanced over his shoulder. ‘And your Uncle Myc?’

‘Uncle _Mycroft_ ,’ the British Government grumbled, but was largely ignored.

The twelve-year-old stuck out her bottom lip and looked down, playing with the large black buttons of his coat. ‘But I wanted to visit Nana and you said I could do whatever I wanted. That it was our Special Day.’

‘The operative word being ‘our’, my little honeybee,’ Sherlock raised an eyebrow. ‘If you had wanted to visit Nana, we would have gone together. You should never have taken off like that without your uncle or I with you!’

‘But you were busy playing Operation,’ she countered. ‘And it was only a three hour train ride, I’ve done it before!’ She crossed her arms, a frown exactly like her father’s on her face.

‘With your mother and I!’ Sherlock exclaimed exasperatedly, throwing his hand up in the air.

‘We can talk about this when we get home,’ Molly stepped forward, recognizing the start of one of their delightful Father-Daughter Fights. She rubbed her brow tiredly. ‘After the day I’ve had, I’ve earned the right to some chocolate cake and peace.’

Violet wrapped an arm around Molly’s shoulders commiseratingly and led her inside. ‘Good thing I made extra.’

‘I believe a small slice of cake would indeed hit the spot,’ Mycroft declared, following them inside, Sherlock on his heels, making mocking gestures of the British Government shoveling food in his mouth and waddling along with a huge, imaginary belly.

Georgina laughed at her father’s antics.

Both immediately sobered when Mycroft whipped his head around, narrowing his eyes accusingly.

‘Don’t make me come back there.’


End file.
